


An Earnest Proposal at the End of the World

by Morwynn



Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: End of the World, F/M, Humor, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 12:46:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14213466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morwynn/pseuds/Morwynn
Summary: At the end of book 13, Thom and Mat successfully rescued Moiraine from the Tower of Ghenjei. While Thom and Moiraine reconnect in the clearing, Mat goes off to hunt some dinner and grudgingly changes his mind about performing the marriage ceremony.***“They camped on the North Road a little. They schemed against the Tairen High Lords for a while. He rescued her from an alternate dimension. Classic love story. So without further ado, here goes nothing. Thom Merrilin, court bard, gleeman, flaming fool of  a wool-headed madman, do you really mean to take Moiraine as your lawfully wedded wife?”





	An Earnest Proposal at the End of the World

Moiraine lived. 

Much like herself, the earth pulsed with new life here, wherever they were, a little pocket yet untouched by the Dark One’s reach. Sprouts sprang out of the damp soil, pale buds burst into bloom on branches, raindrops clung to each blade of grass. Wildflowers of every vibrant color swayed in a light, fragrant breeze, scented with the earthiness of rain-soaked loam and the sweetness of the lavender and lovage blossoms. The dark clouds had broken up to reveal a golden afternoon light, streaming through the green leaves and dappling the clearing floor. The soft, powerful beauty of it filled Moiraine as she sat, blinking and still, slowly breathing it in. The last time she had been outside, it had been late summer. 

Her senses, overstimulated after so many months left largely unconscious in the tower, threatened to overwhelm her. Without the rock-steady pulse of Lan’s bond anchoring her quickly-sifting thoughts, Moiraine’s inner world still felt a little unbalanced. The sharp ache of the loss had subsided during her captivity--it, too, had provided fodder for her captors--but her mind still occasionally reached out for him out of habit, like tonguing the space left by a missing tooth, like sleeping in a shared bedroom, alone. She had learned to live with the lack in Sidhol, but being back in the world, with other wrongs set back to right, the blank spot in her mind felt mildly jarring once more. But there was so much right, she couldn’t bring herself to focus for long on anything else. And soon that space in her mind would be filled with Thom.

Thom, her Thom, truly stood in front of her. Not a memory, dredged up for the pleasure of others, but a safe, solid reality. She had not wanted him, Mat, and the other man to risk their lives to save her, had worried that she was not worth the cost, yet on a personal level, she had dreamed of it every day. 

Thom, meanwhile, couldn’t wipe the grin from his face, giddy through his exhaustion. That morning, he had not been sure that he or Moiraine would survive the day. Now she sat, alive and safe, before him, in the little clearing by the river, looking even more beautiful than he had remembered. His betrothed. She had wasted little time in bringing that about, but that single-minded fixation on achieving her goals was one of the things he loved about her. Even though they had parted on shaky terms, to say the least, her proposal confirmed what he had so wished to be true: that her genuine affection for him outweighed whatever negativity had stood between them in Tear. And miraculously, he found that his genuine affection for her outweighed the stigma and grief toward Aes Sedai he had carried for so long. He could see now that Aes Sedai were not all the same, and she was like no other. He could not wait to marry her. 

Distantly, Thom became aware that Mat was walking away and leaving him alone with his wife-to-be in the clearing. He brought his hands up to frame her face, lovingly caressing her cheek with his thumb. She lifted her hands up to his, her soft smile turning to concern as she felt the heat radiating from his skin. Delicately, she took his hands in hers, holding them before her and examining them with a practiced professionalism. 

“I did not see these wounds before, or I would have offered Healing immediately. Mat might still refuse Aes Sedai intervention, but even you were not so afraid of the One Power as he. May I Heal you?” she asked, her brow furrowed lightly as her dark eyes rose from his reddened, blistered hands to meet his. 

“Thank you for asking. I barely noticed them myself, but have at it,” Thom responded, wincing as she firmed her grip on his hands slightly and began Delving. 

“You obtained them because of me. It is the least I can do,” she replied, transitioning from Delving to Healing. Thom jolted, the heat in his hands flashing to ice in the rush of the weave. In a moment, the angry, red skin had calmed back down, blisters fading and peeling skin reknitting back to form his familiar, weathered hands. She continued holding his large, gnarled hands in her small, slender ones after completing the Healing. 

Suddenly, she took a breath as if steeling herself. “I love you,” she said simply, the heartfelt declaration at odds with the preparation she had taken to get it out. Her difficulty only made Thom smile wider. Used to communicating solely in demands or obfuscations, she was actually somewhat miserable at honest, straightforward communication. He found her awkward attempts endearing. She continued, “I have loved you since Tear, perhaps even since Baerlon.”

She would probably tell him about Min’s vision one day, if they lived that long, but there was no need to get into every detail right now. Thom squeezed her hands, his blue eyes twinkling. He chuckled, “Oh, I started falling for you in those early days on the road in spite of myself. I went along to protect three farm boys from you, but maybe they should have been protecting me.” 

They smiled at each other, joyful but still so weary. It felt surreal to be reunited at last. Thom led her into a kiss, gentle at first, then deepening as they drank in the knowledge that they were safe, alive, and together. Their tender, passionate moment was marred only by the fact that Mat was not there to be grossed out by it. 

After a time, they gently pulled away, and Moiraine grew serious again. Sharing thoughts, memories, or feelings did not come naturally to her, but captivity had shown her that time could be very short and time with loved ones precious. She could not afford many secrets from Thom as they approached the Last Battle, and there were things she did want him to know. Things she prefered to share out of Mat’s earshot while she could. 

“I revisited Tear often in my mind these past months. It was not only negative emotions they fed off of,” she explained quietly, the mere allusion to the ordeal recalling the visions of her mother dying, receiving the news that her father had died, the attempted sexual assaults, the atrocities she had witnessed in battle… She shuddered and refused to let her mind get sucked back in. She focused instead on the part she wished to share right now. She continued, “They fed off of positive emotions as well. Happiness. Contentment. Love, and… related feelings.” 

Her gaze shifted slightly away from him for a moment, confirming exactly which “related feelings” she referred to; only the most intimate of topics could have that effect on her. Well. Thom generally felt very capable in that department, but even he did not realize the magnitude of the service he had provided in this case. She explained, “Our few months in the Stone of Tear provided them with a feast. The days they fed off of those memories kept me sane.”

She gave him a little smile, looking at him with large, dark eyes that still seemed haunted. Thom thought his heart might burst at what she was telling him. That for months, she had been alone, forced to endure unspeakable hardship, with one tiny tether to hope. And it was him. That she had had faith in him all along… he was just thankful he had been able to come through for her. And in a way, her letter had been the one glimmer of hope propelling him forward as well, their two threads in the Pattern hurtling toward each other at a pace sometimes achingly slow. There was so much he wanted to tell her, and even though he was a master of spoken language, words failed. 

“I meant to cheer you, Thom,” she said, the corners of her lips quirking up in amusement at how her tale had backfired. Her time in the tower had clearly warped her perspective on what constituted heartwarming. “I am trying to show you what you mean to me.” 

“I know," he said softly. “I’m just trying to take it in.” She caressed his furrowed brow until it smoothed again, then cupped his face in her small hand until he smiled at her. 

“Hold me,” she said. Well, commanded, really. But somehow Thom usually found himself wanting to do what she said. He settled down beside her and wrapped his arms around her. She tucked her arms back into the gleeman’s cloak and tucked herself under his chin and against his chest. 

***  
Some distance away, Mat set to skinning the rabbit he had just killed. His mind whirled and the single die that had started spinning when he refused to marry them kept rattling softly. He’d barely had time save his own skin from the Aelfinn and Eelfinn before Thom and Moiraine Flaming Sedai sprang on him that they wanted to elope. Together! They knew better than to bloody ask him to do it, but he could tell they were thinking it. Moiraine was probably offended that he hadn’t already jumped to offer once the idea crossed her mind. Two minutes out of the bloody tower and she was trying to control him again. Well, he couldn’t marry them. He wasn’t a Lord, no matter how everyone insisted on treating him as one. Mat only had three pairs of boots, after all--well, four if you counted the ones with the lace--and he never wore those, like a lord surely would. So Matrim Cauthon was no noble and no marriage to any bloody Empress would change that. 

Since Mat had begun relieving his boredom by playing matchmaker to his friends, he had never paired anyone up with Thom. Thom never seemed to pick women of an appropriate age, according to Mat’s good Two Rivers sensibility, anyway. Upon learning that Moiraine lived, Mat had first thought to introduce her to Talmanes. It had been perfect! Two eccentric Cairhienin nobles. And she could make the man feel tall for a change. Let them make increasingly cryptic and strange jokes at each other until their conversations devolved into flat stares. Not that he would ever really inflict an Aes Sedai on one of his friends--and definitely not Moiraine. Mat could see that coming back to bite him in the rump almost immediately. Except now it was really happening. Moiraine and Thom? Mat had been way off the mark this time. He thanked his luck that he’d never been offered a chance to take that wager. First the shock that he had been travelling with Jain Farstrider all along, now this reveal from Thom. Did Mat even know his own bloody friends at all? 

Thom was always quick with a joke and a smile, and, well, Moiraine’s smiles might as well have been glares. Tuon never glared like that. Oh, she glared, and often… but not like that. Mat suspected Moiraine could give the Empress herself lessons in glaring. Light, he could go for a glare from Tuon right about now. Blood and bloody ashes! Did all women make their husbands so wool-headed? Now that he was married, he’d have to make extra sure that he wasn’t acting a mooncalf. An idea occurred to him. They wanted to get married, did they? Mat grinned. Apparently Thom wanted to learn the hard way how happy he’d be when he was not allowed to look any further south than the barmaids’ eyebrows during his next common room performance. Oh, he’d marry them, all right, and they would bloody owe him for the privilege. 

Still grinning, Mat gathered his knife, skinned rabbit, and new copper-bottomed pot, then headed back toward the camp. Just before he cleared the trees, he froze and considered the facts. Moiraine and Thom were engaged barely an hour gone, had apparently spent the last who knows how many months pining after each other, and were sharing one outfit between them, besides. Just to be on the safe side, Mat gave a scout whistle, asking if the coast were clear. 

At Thom’s return whistle giving the all-clear, Mat proceeded all the way into the clearing. The pair sat cuddled up together, leaning against the fallen log, but decent. The scene of quaint, domestic bliss was almost worse than the saucier scene Mat had feared stumbling upon. Was his whole crew going soft?

Mat’s smug saunter caught Thom’s eye as Mat returned to the camp. He seemed particularly proud of that skinny rabbit he’d caught. Other days, Thom might have even thought twice about that smarmy attitude. Not this evening though. Nothing Matrim Cauthon was grinning about would be good news, but with Moiraine fast in his arms and her head on his shoulder, the Dark One himself couldn’t ruin how Thom felt. Thom let the younger man tend to the camp--stoke the fire, heat the tea, cook the meat. The green shadows of the afternoon sun through the trees grew longer as Thom dissolved into the weight of Moiraine’s body. She’d dozed off and he’d not be the one to wake her. The Healing and the frank exchange about their feelings for each other had obviously drained the woman. 

Mat strung up the rabbit over the fire and got the tea brewing in the pot, grumbling that he had to do all the work around here. Softly, Moiraine stirred as Mat bustled around the campsite, but neither she nor Thom made any real move to get up. After several long minutes, their food and drink seemed done, and Mat jumped up to pass it around. 

“Eat up,” Mat said flippantly, distributing grilled rabbit legs to his companions. “It might be our last meal before the Last Battle.” 

If his dark joke fazed either one of them, they did not show it as they quietly tucked into their meal. Besides, Moiraine suspected Mat did not realize how accurate his statement likely was. One of her requests had been to be present at the Last Battle--she had asked indirectly, of course, to honor the Eelfinn’s distaste for talk of the Dark One, but she had negotiated around the matter nonetheless. Knowing how their negotiations worked, they would not spit her out until the last possible moment, meaning the Last Battle would be soon. Like going though the rings in Rhuidean, the trauma of the Eelfinn faded quickly and made it all the more easy to feel that her sacrifice had been worth it. Indeed, although she could not explain further, one of the few notions she had retained upon leaving Rhuidean was an insistent, clamoring feeling that she must be present at the Last Battle, no matter the cost. 

And the cost had been steep. On top of draining her augmented power, her intense emotions, and every stitch of clothing, they had also credited her for bringing Lanfear to their realm, thus more than doubling her bargaining chips. Even after the high price she had paid to them, they would still honor their exact word to the letter and not a jot more. Yes, if she interpreted events correctly, the Last Battle would begin tomorrow. And she would stand at the ready by the Dragon’s side. Odd that such a terrifying event could bring her calm, but she felt peace at how close she was finally coming to achieving her goal. 

“You don’t even seem bothered,” Mat goaded. He was just desperate to get a reaction out of them tonight. She regarded him calmly. 

“It is true that the Last Battle is the most significant, potentially devastating event to have occurred in the last three thousand years of human history. But. I have dedicated my life to preparing for it. Indeed, I am ill-suited for anything else. This is my purpose, and here I am.” 

“The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, I’m guessing?” Mat replied, and they shared a look.

“Careful, Mat,” Moiraine chided. “You would not want me to think you were growing nostalgic.” 

His flustered look gave her a small, satisfied smile, but she did not dwell on it long. This talk of the Last Battle compulsively set Moiraine’s mind to strategizing as it had not been entirely free to do in months. She had strongly considered asking the Eelfinn for information, which she assumed she could negotiate as a sort of boon. In the end though, she had decided that she trusted herself enough to know that she could gather intelligence on her own merit, thus freeing up an entire request to put toward even more strategic purposes. But now it meant that she had only hours to collect as much information as she could to prepare for what tomorrow had in store. She knew she could rely on Thom to fill her in. There were only a few matters to take care of first, like marrying him, and then she would begin to sort it out. 

Their meal began winding down. Mat felt ready to make his grand announcement. They had better be ready. 

“You know, I did some thinking while I was off finding us dinner and the cooking pot. Now, of the three of us, I’m the married man here with all the matrimonial experience and I say you should both run while you still can. But if you two bloody fools are so set on getting hitched, I guess I don’t see why I can’t be the one to do it for you, especially seeing as the Last Battle is coming, after all. You’re welcome.” Mat folded his arms and huffed, somehow managing to look both exhausted and magnanimous at the same time. He looked expectantly at the pair, waiting for their effusive thanks at his beneficence. It wasn’t every day that the Prince of Ravens officiated someone’s wedding! 

Burn them if they didn’t look like they’d expected this all along. Would he ever catch a break around here? Mat decided to remind them just how big a favor this was by saying, “Now ordinarily in the Two Rivers, a couple has to court for a year after the Women’s Circle gives them permission, you know.” 

“Then I suppose it is just as well that this is a Seanchan legal ceremony,” Moiraine calmly reminded him. 

Mat opened his mouth to retort that that made it an even bigger favor to marry a bloody marath’damane under Seanchan law, then stopped himself, wondering just what kind of legal trouble he was bringing down upon the Empire. Oh well, they could cross that bridge when they got there. He only added, “Well, let’s get on with it then.”

The three of them stood, Moiraine and Thom facing each other, Mat glowering before them. Thom’s cloak puddled several inches on the ground around Moiraine’s bare feet. She had faced down trollocs, darkhounds, the Black Ajah, and the Forsaken; why did she suddenly feel nervous? Thom reached out for her hands. When she took them in her own and squeezed them, hers were steady. It felt like a very long time since that morning in Baerlon when Min had told Moiraine that she had a vision of her marrying Thom. Moiraine had believed Min but she had not been able to imagine the circumstances that would bring her vision about. Moiraine had had a mission and a Warder and there had been no room for anything else. But things had changed. She had changed. And now this weave of the Pattern made so much sense to her. Granted, she had assumed she would be wearing an actual dress when it happened, but the rest of it made sense. 

“We are gathered here today,” Mat announced to the empty clearing in a grandiose voice even a gleeman would find ostentatious, “to celebrate the union of Thomdril Merrilin and Moiraine Damodred.”

Thom caught her eye and winked. She felt lightheaded, like some fool girl. 

“They camped on the North Road a little. They schemed against the Tairen High Lords for a while. He rescued her from an alternate dimension. Classic love story. So without further ado, here goes nothing. Thom Merrilin, court bard, gleeman, flaming fool of a wool-headed madman, do you really mean to take Moiraine as your lawfully wedded wife?” 

“I do,” Thom replied, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. 

“And Moiraine bloody Damodred, blasted flaming Aes Sedai, this is your last chance. Are you sure you want Thom as your lawfully wedded husband?” 

She remembered the night he invited himself onto her quest. A part of the Pattern, she had said. She’d had no idea. She remembered their first night together in the Stone, the anguished day she sent him away to Tanchico. Anxiously writing him the letter on her last night in Cairhien. So much had seemed so uncertain for so long. She could be certain about this. “I do,” she said, quiet, confident, and firm. She didn’t look right at him just yet; she needed her knees to hold her up a little longer. 

“Then burn me for a Light-blinded fool,” Mat declared to the clearing at large. “With the power they tell me is vested in me as the Prince of the Flaming Ravens, I guess I pronounce you man and wife. Don’t bloody kiss until I’m twenty paces away!” 

With the last words still coming out of his mouth, Mat was already dashing away, clapping his hat further down on his head. The bloody die went quiet. 

As Mat stormed off, they melted into an embrace that was as tender as it was passionate. Moiraine raised up on her toes as Thom’s arms encircled her. He was hers; whatever they faced tomorrow, they faced it together. 

“I said twenty paces!” Mat called from ten paces away, but neither Thom nor Moiraine paid him any mind. 

Mat was long gone by the time they pulled apart. Even the late-afternoon shadows looked a little longer. They smiled at each other; they could not stop smiling. It was a little embarrassing, really. Thom lovingly brushed a strand of hair off of Moiraine’s face. “Do you feel any different, Mrs. Thom Merrilin?” he asked, grinning.

Her eyes flashed, but only in mock irritation. Of course his first act as her husband would be to needle her. Light, she loved this man. She hoped for a lifetime of being needled. And needling right back. She smiled. She did a lot of that of late. “I will always be Moiraine Damodred, although you are welcome to join me in that illustrious House, if you wish. Thom Merrilin Damodred might even be able to take the Sun Throne. And in a moment, you will never need to ask me how I feel again.” 

And with that they both grew solemn with the prospect of bonding, which made the natural next step after completing their vows. Moiraine felt a stab of bittersweetness, Lan flashing through her mind. She gently placed him in her past and looked forward toward Thom and her future. Her priority had to be seeing Rand through the Last Battle, but if she could offer Thom the additional strength and protection being a Warder could bring, she would gladly do so. 

Moiraine felt the magnitude of the moment. One look at Thom told her he did too. She did not open up easily; neither did he. All the secrets, the private thoughts, the hidden feelings they kept safely away from the outside world, would all be laid bare and open to each other’s minds in a single moment of raw honesty and breathtaking intimacy. 

“Are you ready?” she asked. 

He gazed at her. She had grown. She asked his permission, she worked as part of a team. The rough edges of their problems in Tear and before, the deception, the friction of Daes Dae’mar scheming against each other, smoothed away. She approached him with respect and trust as an equal; he trusted her even if he did not always understand right away. 

“Yes,” he replied, steeling himself for the complex Weave of Spirit. “I’m ready.” 

As Moiraine’s expression shifted to one of soft concentration, Thom felt his heart begin to race with anticipation. He might not have felt like Mat did regarding the One Power, but it still wasn’t something he looked forward to, as much as Moiraine had attempted to change his mind on the matter. In their last week or two together in Tear, Moiraine’s bid to convince him that not all uses of the One Power were sinister had led to her using some … interesting Weaves while he shared her bed. Blues could be very determined in pursuing their causes and she had mounted a very persuasive counter-argument, but he could be a tough man to convince. He knew he loved this beautiful woman, and he knew that she loved him, but still, as she lovingly cradled his head and ran her fingers up the side of his neck, still, he felt his breath catch and his balance desert him. 

Was he ready to be in that mind of hers? What was it going to feel like? Would the world seem different after being bonded? Would he still be able to regard her with the necessary posturing when he wanted to rile her up? She was about to run headlong into the end of the world, could this give him enough strength to keep her safe? His mind raced as he traced out all the possibilities before him. His heart beat through his chest, torn between anticipation and love for his wife--His wife!--

Suddenly, softly, a warm.... something… blossomed in his mind. It was not uncomfortable--quite the contrary, it felt as if a wonderful memory had gathered up all the love and passion he’d had for her and… solidified it. He could feel it, in his mind, almost like a tangible object made of weightless light, and it was unmistakably her. It blazed with affection for him, appreciation, love, and, ah yes, there it was, exasperation. He grinned. 

“I still think Moiraine Merrilin has a nice ring to it,” he said lightly. He might be her Warder now, but he was still himself first and foremost. Best to remind her early and often. 

The part of his mind that was her flared anew in a delightful combination of tender caring and flustered irritation. Could she roll her eyes over the bond? It felt as if she were rolling her eyes at him. She might be able to keep her outside appearance unruffled, but this new access confirmed much of what Thom had always suspected: she was just as human as the rest of them. She felt so much. Gloriously, powerfully, felt it all. This was going to be fun.

“Your opinion has been noted. Now jump,” she commanded simply, releasing her grip on the back of his head. Now if she thought being her Warder meant he literally had to jump at her beck and call, she had another thing coming. He opened his mouth to verbalize the feelings already flowing at her when she repeated calmly and firmly, “Thom. Jump.” 

His knee. His blasted wounded knee, the injury he had never fully accepted, began to unknot! He jumped, his muscles surging with strength and energy. He felt nimble again, as spry as a much younger man, more flexible, more invigorated than he had ever experienced. He could swim upstream all the way to Fal Dara, he could run a hundred miles, he could carry her in his arms the whole way, he could-- 

Feeling his excitement, a grin spread across Moiraine’s lips and glinted in her eyes. She explained, “Among other things, the bond will enable you to go for long periods without food or rest, as well as provide you with increased strength and stamina.” 

Her joy at his joy bounced back to him, leaving him breathless. Joy, and… yes, there was something a little saucier underneath. She could feel him reach the same conclusion she had, of some practical applications for all that increased strength and stamina. She was still smiling up at him, the warmth in her eyes smoldering into a dark fire, no words needed to communicate what she was thinking. 

Thom did not want to make any assumptions about the feelings radiating toward him through the bond, filling him with warmth, but he hoped that Moiraine would see fit to observe at least some newlywed tradition. He turned around, scanning the ground around the fire for a suitable place to settle down. The clearing was rocky and still damp in places from rain earlier in the day. Even snuggled as tightly together as he imagined they would be, there didn’t seem to be a comfortable patch of ground large enough to accommodate both of them. 

Just as he was coming to this conclusion, he glimpsed from the corner of his eye as his colorful cloak spread out and fluttered to the ground as one might fan out the top sheet when making a bed. If the cloak were on the ground, that meant…

Moiraine said softly to Thom’s back, “This could be our last night alive, my husband, and I have missed you very badly these past months. Will you show me how much you’ve missed me?”

Oh, he had missed her very much.


End file.
